The Eternal Screaming of an Angel
by Profedericus
Summary: What is he? Why is he? How is he? Castiel is screaming inside. He is a screaming angel of the Lord, and an angel can never understand the Lord's most beautiful creation. Or can he? Dean/Castiel. T for the time being.


A/N: Hello everyone. I don't know exactly when this is set, it's up to you to decide. Don't know if I will finish this, just putting it out there. Please enjoy.

* * *

_I never meant to be your one night, one mistake._

Wings are but a beautiful memory, a long since forgotten symbol of the trust bestowed upon us, a form only kept alive by our yearning nostalgia. Sometimes I believe my true form has had its wings ripped off, my grace soiled by the flesh I have taken upon. In such a short time, I feel soiled. Soiled, disfigured, changed. Such an existence as mine cannot be expressed in the tongue of man, no words can describe how I am, what I am. The closest human expression would perhaps be an echoing scream, growing louder and louder until it cannot be comprehended anymore. It goes so high up that everything becomes deaf to it. Man, animals, nature. We scream unheard above the clouds. No white dresses and glowing halos, no playing harps and singing songs of the Lord. We scream an eternal scream, no physical lungs to burst, no voice to crack. We have no physical limits. We have only invisible limits, limits that we can only know. We know no bounds, but are still bound to serve.

How can it be that within that which is bound, I have felt free?

Out of hell I raised you; my hand scrambling among the abominations, the disgusting, the sinful, the evil. I considered it a burden, a chore, if you will. Why had it fallen upon me of all? Why, certainly, there are many others up for the task of seeing to the safety of the vessel of Michael, gain all the glory it can offer. But it fell upon me, and dutifully I did what was asked of me. As I raised you up, my true form visible to your poor tortured soul, I remember seeing you in the eyes for the first time. You were twisted. Disfigured. Soiled. You were soiled. A beautiful soul soiled by the pits of hell, broken by that which we all break for; no hope. Hope had been drained from you long ago, you were almost in pieces. I was first disgusted by you, sneered at the mere fact that I had to touch you. Thinking back, I wish I could have held on forever.

When you realized what was happening, I saw a spark in you. A light anew, a curiosity waking up from an eternal slumber, hope in its purest form. For the first time in hundreds of years, I was surprised. I had watched humans for two thousand years and never seen such an amazing sight. Of course I had been surprised many a times, confused even at your behaviour, but the feeling that emanated from you into me was so powerful it put me completely off. I realized that man was not something I knew, I was naive if I thought observation would count as knowing the essence of your creation. In that moment I knew that I knew _nothing_. Two thousand years and I knew nothing.

Letting go of you was surprisingly hard. I left you at the designated spot, unguarded and unknown. "He will find his way," I was told. "You seem unusually tense Castiel. Did something happen in hell?"

"No." I had replied and ended the conversation. Firm, decisive. Although of lower rank, I was respected. I was obedient, did not question. A soldier, a follower, a mindless chess piece. Perhaps respect is not the word I should use. Tolerated, not a problem. I was not considered a problem, not a tangle in the master plan.

Now look at me. Look at me.

You do not look at me. You do not see me. I have not answered your prayers for very long, you are frustrated and annoyed with me. Why have I not answered? Where has my feathery ass been keeping busy? You're drinking beer and watching some show on TV. I have learned that it is considered very embarrassing and unmanly to watch the kind of show you are watching now and I smile to myself. If I had told Sam you would have denied ever watching it and given me a cold look. But I can keep my secrets, oh the secrets I keep hidden in this infinite mind of mine. Angel secrets, my secrets, your secrets. I always hated keeping secrets away from you, big master plan secrets and to you unknown secrets about what you call the supernatural, the things "normal" human beings know nothing about. It was always easier to lie to Sam, my irregular behaviour patter made it hard for him to know when I lied. But it was harder when I lied to you. You would always look at me with deep green eyes that could mean anything from trust to distrust, affection to hate. I felt conflicted, unsure and... strange. Alien. Truly alien-like and more of an outsider than ever.

Now I can't even begin to try and describe how I feel. I stay in this form to bind myself to you, to push away the scream inside of me. But I feel so impure, so spoiled, so tainted. I have walked the great wall of China, stood atop the Eiffel tower and walked the bottom of the ocean. But the greatest of sights have still been the few times I have heard your prayers and appeared near you just to check and see if you were in actual danger or just having a fit to angrily yell me at me inside your head. I smile weakly to myself, a human trait I never thought I would adopt, every time I see you go to bed praying for me, then look around to find that no one else is there. Oh but I am. You cannot see me for I dare not face you, but I am right here when you want me to be. My smile fades when I see your shiny eyes, hear your heavy sigh and watch as you slowly get up from your knees and go to bed.

Your hope fades a little bit for every day that passes.

I once stayed and watched you sleep. A most irrational thing to do, but something about you caught my attention this particular night. Something was happening with you, something was occupying your mind so much that forgot to eat and drink. You went to bed after praying for me for the third time that day, your brow furrowed and concentrated. After a long time your body finally relaxed and you fell asleep, a peaceful look decorated your face. I looked at you, marvelled at the concept of sleep for myself, and suddenly noticed that you still slept like you did when Sam was alive.

You slept half on your side, the arm resting on the mattress extended outwards so that your little brother could grab you if something happened while you slept, while you could not watch him, protect him.

I sigh. You are barely interested in the show you are watching, your eyes are on the screen but your mind is somewhere else, far away from here. After a while you turn off the TV, finish the beer and take the dishes to the kitchen.

I walk through the wall and follow you quietly. I am careful with my steps although I know you can't see or hear me, I am if looking at the technicalities not filling any physical space, impossible to sense. But still I insist on being careful, a mindless game I play with myself, perhaps waging on insanity. You wash the dishes very slowly, almost robotically, and my eyes never leave you. I look at your back and slowly I come closer and closer. You're completely focused on getting the fat away from a pot and put some strength into your dishwashing. I sense how your muscles tense and relax in your movement, feel in the air how your body gets just slightly warmer. Like the world is moving slower, I feel myself being pulled towards you like a magnet. The negative side gets too close to the positive and suddenly I can't stop myself. Before I know it I stand right behind you. You keep on washing the dishes while I experience a sudden rush of desire. I cannot stop myself. I cannot. I raise a trembling hand up towards you, slowly it makes its way closer until it finally rests on your right shoulder blade. In an instant you can feel me, hear me. My veil of physical nothingness rips apart and you stop what you're doing, the pot still not spot free in your hands.

I breathe deep breaths, in and out, loud and controlled. I feel the desire rush through me in short waves, concentrate itself into my hand. I feel the power possess my hand, my whole arm is shaking from the effort of not gripping you, perhaps breaking a bone or two. My breath is shaking, trying to remain controlled. My hand rests firmly on you, not moving an inch, no matter how much my desire commands me to.

"Cas" you say. It is not a question. It is a statement, a statement that I am here, still alive and still your brother's murderer.

* * *

A/N: Hello again! I hope you enjoyed the first part. Like I said, I don't know if I will finish this. I am generally very bad at finishing fanfictions haha. Have a great day.


End file.
